Absolute Beginners
by Leper Messiah
Summary: After a night of reminiscing, Curt realizes that the reporter he met seems awfully familiar ... (PG-13 only for first few chapters)
1. Chapter 1st

ABSOLUTE BEGINNERS - CHAPTER ONE   
  
Curt Wild sat alone in his apartment. It wasn't odd for him to be alone, he was most of the time,  
whether he wanted to be or not.   
  
It had taken a few years for him to get over the initial shock of being washed-up -- his sharply  
declining popularity forced him into more dangerous habits than he would have normally risked,  
pushing him lower and lower until he hit the very bottom pit of humanity. But what was fame,  
after all?  
  
Fame was nothing, when you had no choice but to be alone. Fame was nothing, if you had no   
one to comfort you, to save you from yourself. So being a nobody, that was good. He could  
choose to be a solitary creature. As a nobody, Curt could walk down the street unnoticed. If he  
bumped into a stranger, they would not show a glint of a glimmer of recognition.  
  
And it was true. He revelled in his anonymity. Just a few days before, he had bumped into  
someone -- that pesky reporter from the Herald ... of course he hadn't known at the time that he  
worked for the Herald, but that's just the way the world seems to work -- the bloke didn't even  
blink twice before hurrying off on his merry way. 

It was all Brian's fault. Brian liked to be alone. He couldn't handle people, so he tricked them,  
manipulated them. He destroyed his name, his friends, his family, and finally himself, just to be   
reborn a singular success, free from any baggage he may have picked up on his rise to stardom.  
A sad joke, that's what it was. Everyone who had ever seemed important in that world, in that   
bygone era, was set adrift, marooned by Brian's selfishness and greed. Mandy, ripped apart by  
a cheating, lying, husband. Cecil, tossed aside like an old overcoat. Fairy, doomed to drown in a  
sea of forgotten names and repressed memories. And Devine, he was dead. So was Curt, for   
the most part.  
  
He could remember the farewell concert better than the years since. "Death to Glitter!" it hailed,  
a majestic good-bye to a dying breed. He wretched his heart out that night, for everyone and   
everything that had happened. For himself. And for Brian.   
  
Fairy had pulled him aside as he rushed off stage.  
  
"Look at the crowd." he said, holding him back. Thousands of people. Thousands. Screaming  
his name as if it were sacred. Prostrating themselves for as if for a god; their fallen idol. "You will  
never see anything like that again."   
  
And as he stared into the crowd, the picture before him emblazoned itself in his memory. Curt   
would truly never see such a sight again. He turned, finally, willing to accept his demise with  
grace. His last dance was over. It was time to bury the dead.   
  
But from the corner of his eye, Curt saw a flashing smile from someone standing in the wing. He  
studied the boy for a moment, marvelling in envy at the innocent face, so plastered with euphoric  
happiness. A perfect candidate for Curt's final conquest. He'd top the bill with this one. Coyly he  
shot a glance at the boy, tilting his head towards the door. The boy just smiled back, grinning   
brilliantly.  
  
Curt seemed to recall that smile vividly, filling him with nostalgic warmth. But, somehow, it was  
too vivid a memory for just that tiny single moment. He must have seen it before, somewhere ...   
it lingered on his thoughts as if it had been only yesterday.  
  
But wait.  
It had been only yesterday.  
  
Because the smile Curt Wild was seeing held two different forms, each fighting for precedence  
in his mind.   
  
The first appearance undoubtedly came from the boy he'd fucked on the roof ten years ago.  
  
The second was from that reporter.   
  
Note: Ooooh, cliffy! Don't you just hate me, reader luvvies? I've read a number of Curt/Arthur  
stories, and I have to say, it's so predictable having Arthur run after Curt as if he hadn't aged   
since their last encounter. Puh-leeze. No self-respecting journalist would go chasing after a  
childhood idol for a shag. How embarrassing! This is my take on the pairing. Like it or leave it --  
PLEASE leave a comment, cos I don't know if anyone's actually reading this! 


	2. Chapter 2nd

ABSOLUTE BEGINNERS - CHAPTER TWO 

  
_So glad this week is finally, finally over_!  
  
Arthur Stuart paused to take a deep breath, feeling the cool air fill his lungs to capacity and filter  
out again, leaving his body calm, refreshed, and pure. Rinse. Repeat.  
  
What a week.  
  
Arthur had spent the last few days researching and re-discovering the hectic and repressed   
memories of his adolescence, a task which proved almost painful to his stable and jaded persona.  
Events resurfaced which he wished had remained forever hidden in the dark depths of his mind,  
events which had caused himself and others unbelievable grief, and left him feeling hollow and   
deceived.   
  
For the last ten years of his life, Arthur had fought to regain the self-discipline he had shirked off   
as a child. He strove to right the wrongs he had made, the personal morals he had violated.   
Violated ... that was how he had been feeling. In those days ... he gave up everything -- his life,   
his family, his body -- and for nothing, for a lie. For the legacy of a forgotten wonder. The fates   
laughed as every day he tried to mask his insecurities with perfectionism. With work. With   
anything that could make up for the fact that Arthur Stuart felt like a bad person.  
  
His ever-present guilt had been building steadily ever since he'd been assigned the god-awful   
article to write. He couldn't believe it had already been ten years of suppressed emotions,   
emotions which now threatened to billow and erupt in a heave of tension. Interviewing Cecil had   
just been the beginning of a floodgate forced open by time. He couldn't sit a moment alone   
anymore without some smothered vision welling up and contaminating his mind's eye.  
  
When he met Mandy Slade, Arthur had no idea that her own memories could harmonize so   
sadly with his own. As she spoke, lost moments seemed to clamber to the surface of his mind,   
fighting for recognition and precedence within the tumult of his anxiety. Everything he had ever   
wanted to forget was washed upon the shores of his brain, floating in and out with the tide, but   
never quite finding it out to sea.  
  
But it was a fix, and he couldn't stop. He had to know more. He had to keep going. He didn't   
know why, but something important drove him on, to the brink of his own self control, to the   
limits of his sanity.  
  
And then he found it.   
  
Shocking, coincidental of course, and totally unplanned. "Tommy Stone is Brian Slade. Brian   
Slade is Tommy Stone" brought a wash of closure that ten years of shame hadn't begun to   
achieve. "Tommy Stone IS Brian Slade. Brian Slade IS Tommy Stone."  
  
He had almost blown it. The article was out. Of course, if he had been thinking correctly, Arthur  
would have realized that such a piece of fluff would undoubtedly be shrugged off at the last  
minute. It was to be expected. But the topic had been so jarring, so deeply attached to his every  
fibre, he had forgotten all logistics. The article was out. But he HAD to tell somebody.  
  
Shouting his newly discovered glory at Tommy Stone had been the worst idea of his life. The   
look of horror, pain, disgust, fear, and anger in Tommy's eyes made Arthur's blood run cold.   
Some secrets were meant to be kept.  
  
But contents under pressure cannot remain bottled forever. Maybe his past deserved an airing   
out. Nothing was more reassuring than a clean confession. Perhaps these memories needed to   
be revisited, let out in the open. For everyone's sake.   
  
Even someone like Curt Wild deserved a break.  
  
Curt Wilde. Arthur had never expected to see him again. But after the raging storm of his teenage  
years, Arthur was relieved to find that no trace of the wonder or infatuation he had held for the   
man still lingered. Curt, of course, had no recollection of their previous encounter, of which   
Arthur was quite glad. Nothing was as humiliating as being recalled as a naive groupie, a pursuit  
Arthur had long since given up.  
  
Curt had given him the pin. He remembered it well. It shone like nothing else, green and decadent,   
sparking jealousy and awe in all who viewed it. It would forever stand as a marker for the things   
he had witnessed, and perhaps understood, during a time when no one seemed to understand   
anything.  
  
He wanted to help himself forget. He wanted to start again.   
  
He would write a book.   
  
Finally, Arthur Stuart felt like a new man.  
  
Slinging his coat over his shoulder, Arthur locked his desk and swiftly walked towards the   
elevator, whistling happily. As he waited for the doors to open, he could hear the telephone   
ringing back in the office. He didn't know if it was for him, and didn't care, but the unfulfilled  
whinnying of the contraption somehow fuelled his motivation, and as the elevator doors clanged  
shut, Arthur played a smug grin across his lips.  
  
"Hello, you have reached Arthur Stuart at the Herald. I'm sorry, but I am either away or   
unavailable at this time. If you leave your name and number, I'll be sure to get back to you as  
soon as possible."  
  
As the beep sounded obnoxiously through the vast and empty room, a gruff voice cleared its  
throat.  
  
"I just called to say ... I didn't before, but ... I do remember you. I'm sorry." 

  
Note: In response to your query, the events of this story do take place après the movie. 


	3. Chapter 3rd

ABSOLUTE BEGINNERS - CHAPTER THREE 

_[Seven months later]_  
  
Same concert, same bar, same nostalgic afterglow.   
  
Arthur was tired.  
  
He didn't regularly attend rock concerts, but since his run-in with Tommy Stone, he had been   
trying to get back into the "scene." In preperation for his book. His book. What a laugh. After  
transcribing the interviews he had conducted, and adding his own supplimentary material, he   
had barely over one hundred pages. He needed more. And not secondary sources, either. He  
needed the man himself. He needed Brian Slade.  
  
Which was quite ironic, considering his odd relationship with Tommy Stone.  
  
Tommy and his management had been _so_ pleased with his first concert review that he had   
immediately been assigned to cover Tommy's next big show in New York. Arthur smiled to  
himself, recalling the huge gift basket that had mysteriously appeared at work. "_Cheers! Love  
Tommy_." Of course it was Arthur's nagging worry that one day the inevitable would happen --  
they would meet -- and Tommy would recognize his accuser, but for now he was safe, content  
to sip lightly at a watered-down beer.  
  
The place was a total dive. Utterly devoid of any charm or warmth, the bar's only saving grace   
was the apathetic anonymity it offered its patrons. Arthur half expected Curt Wild to saunter in,  
heading for the corner.  
  
Not that it would matter; Arthur had taken his seat, preferring detachment from the   
clostrophobic hubbub of the adrenaline-powered teens swarming in from the Stone show. He  
tried to remember what it felt like to care about music, tried to imagine the blood pumping   
through his veins, heart and head and body throbbing, unbelieving and exhilirated and barely  
breathing. But he just couldn't.   
  
Maybe he was getting old. It was highly possible that he didn't care about music any more. That  
sort of music, anyway. Or maybe the music just wasn't right kind. After all, Tommy Stone   
wasn't special in any way. He didn't mean anything, didn't stand for something original like Brian  
had. He didn't make you want to be different, or even try new things. Yet Tommy managed to   
capture his attention, hooking and drawing him in. He knew what it was, too. Brian had been  
something ...   
  
The feeling of incomplete deja vu in Arthur's mind was suddenly sated, as Curt Wild humbly   
strolled into the bar. Arthur watched him for a few seconds, seeking any sign of recognition,  
and, satisfied that no forced pleasantries would have to be exchanged, returned to his solitary  
reverie.   
  
It didn't surprise him that Curt had been at the concert. He held the same sick fascination with  
Tommy that Arthur had. Anyone from that time would. To them, he couldn't have been more   
obvious, more desperate to change himself into something, anything, that wasn't Brian Slade.  
  
"Why, if it isn't Mr. Stuart from the Herald. Fancy meeting you here." Curt Wild smiled down at  
him lazily.  
  
Arthur froze, startled at first, and then shrugged. He wasn't in the mood for company. Putting on  
a waxen grin, he looked up.  
  
"Hello to you, Curt Wild. What brings you to this hole at such an hour?"  
  
"Misery loves company." Arthur frowned, but Curt didn't notice, slumping down in the seat  
across from him. "I saw your piece on Tommy's last number. Lovely little thing."  
  
"Mm. Yeah." he smiled wearily. "Just Arthur."  
  
"Well then, Arthur it is. And may I ask, Arthur," Curt stopped smiling, eyes narrowing. "why I  
should be interviewed for a review of a Tommy Stone gig? We're not ... contemporaries ... if   
you get my meaning."  
  
Shit. He had phoned Curt. But that was a long time ago. Why did it matter? Were they still  
friends? Shit.  
  
"I'm not trying to start anything. Really." he looked to Curt for acknowledgement before   
continuing. "I was supposed to write an article. About the anniversary. My boss ... he asked me  
to find out what happened to Brian Slade." Arthur took a thick swig from his glass, swishing the   
liquid around gently. "So I did."  
  
"And?"  
  
"Well, naturally I wanted to shout it to the heavens. I raced to the office just in time to find out  
that the piece had been scrapped. I went to the concert. And it sucked. It just ... I felt so   
betrayed."   
  
"I know." Curt took a long time to reply. "So all that work for nothing?" he joked, looking  
slightly off.  
  
"Not really." Curt raised an eyebrow, and Arthur smiled broadly. "I'm writing a book."  
  
"On Brian? You must be kidding."  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Why? What for?"  
  
"I'm not sure. But ... I have to."   
  
"Who've you talked to?" Curt eyed him warily. "No one wants to remember."  
  
"I've met with a few people ... I don't have much. It's coming along."  
  
"Let's see it."  
  
"I don't have it with me!" Arthur was starting to feel trapped. He wanted to be alone again.  
  
"A picture book, more like. Look, why don't you give me a hear, then?"  
  
"An interview?" Arthur blinked. "Right _now_?"  
  
"Sure, why the fuck not? But not here though. Too many of them. Fans." Arthur nodded, trying  
to comprehend the situation. "Why don't you let me read your little snippets, and then I'll give   
you some good quotes to sort through."  
  
"It's at my apartment ..."  
  
"Fine. Let's go."   
  
Curt stood up. Arthur followed suit, thoroughly confused.  
  
* * *  
  
It just felt so wrong. Too calm and cozy. He felt the impending awkwardness driving him into a  
panic, a cold sweat. This was just too weird. Arthur wanted to scream.  
  
"Jesus, how'd you get these people to talk?" Curt was rifling through a messy stack of papers   
on a badly lit desk. Arthur was nowhere to be found.  
  
"Flattery gets you everywhere." Arthur replied, muffled by distance. He couldn't let Curt look  
around the apartment. He couldn't. So he had to close and lock every drawer, arrange every   
closet, and turn off every light before facing him again.   
  
"Fucking hell it will. I didn't even know Mandy was still _alive_."  
  
"Yeah ... she's a right yank now." It was odd, talking familiarly about these people he'd only  
heard rumors about before. He hadn't ever known them, before. But Curt had.   
  
"Is she? Can't see it, myself."   
  
Arthur switched off the last lamp, and threaded his way through the darkness back towards his  
desk.  
  
Curt had known them all. Curt had been there, through everything. He had seen the worst. And  
he had survived.  
  
"Neither could I." Arthur whispered. Now he was starting to feel weird too.  
  
"What's that?" Curt smiled at him as he tripped into a side table. "D'ya have anything to eat   
around here, Mr. Reporter?"  
  
"Yeah." answered Arthur, straightening up. "Here ..." he led Curt into the kitchen, and stood by  
as the former rockstar inspected his fridge. After a moment of fidgeting, he saw Curt snort and   
reach for a bottle of beer, kicking the door closed as he uncapped his prize. After taking a sip,  
he laughed. Arthur regarded him quizzically.  
  
"You're such a man." Curt smirked, nodding towards the fridge. "Such a guy."  
  
"I know." Propelled by something unbeknownst to his person, Arthur took a step forward.  
  
And kissed Curt.  
  
Without giving him a chance to respond, Arthur snaked his arms around the other man's   
shoulders, tilting his head in to a more productive position, delving his tongue into Curt's inviting  
mouth. Curt began similar motions after regaining his composure, and moved slightly so that he   
became trapped between Arthur's body and the cold refrigerator.  
  
Similarly, the cold beer bottle was sending shivers down Arthur's spine, as the rest of his body  
became intensely heated. But it didn't matter, and they kept going, faster, deeper, almost   
violent, until Arthur couldn't breathe. He pulled his head back, still leaning his full body weight  
against Curt, revelling in the painful friction as he tried to calmly catch his breath.  
  
"Any more surprises?" Curt was deadpan, staring Arthur down with startlingly inquisitive eyes.   
Arthur nodded feebly.  
  
He couldn't remember later how or why Curt Wild was fucking him in his own bed.   
  
But he didn't care either.  
  
Notes: Theeeeeeeeeeere we go. Although it's still a PG-13 story. Gesh Dern. I'm just not sure  
about the putting of gratuitous sex in my first fan fic for this genre. I don't know the audience   
yet. (But if you want the sex, by all means, say so, and I'll add it in. There's more in the next  
chapter ...) I'm trying to have Arthur and Curt behave like Adults, which I hope is showing.   
And though I did have to get them back to someone's apartment (they couldn't just fuck on the  
table at the bar, no matter how kinky that might be), hopefully it wasn't too cheesy. 


	4. Chapter 41

ABSOLUTE BEGINNERS - CHAPTER FOUR (Part I)  
  
It was warm. The bed was.  
  
It was always a good sign if the bed was still warm, because it meant that there was still a body  
there to warm it.  
  
So Arthur was still there.  
  
In Curt's opinion, the worst possible feeling was that upon waking to an empty bed. There wasn't a  
lower, more debasing thing in the entire world.   
  
He remembered his first night with Brian. He should have known it would end badly. Even then,   
things hadn't been right.   
  
He had stretched awake in the morning to discover himself totally alone.   
  
Of course, thirty seconds later Brian had wandered back in from the bathroom to bid him good morn-  
ing, but for those thirty seconds, Curt had wanted to die.   
  
But Arthur was still there.  
  
Curt rolled over onto his side, yawning and slightly flexing his muscles. Arthur was already awake,  
and had been watching him for some time.   
  
The washed-up rockstar. His childhood idol. His lover. In his bed.  
  
Arthur smiled.  
  
Curt looked at him for a few moments, eyes flickering over the younger man's body.  
  
The situation. It was much too similar. To before.  
  
But it was also different.  
  
Curt moved himself against Arthur, laying across his chest. He felt Arthur's whole frame rise and   
  
fall with each breath. He was so calm. There was no awkward tension between them. It was ... nice.  
He kissed Arthur, slowly, wanting to prove himself the superior. But Arthur just kissed back   
lazily, keeping Curt's will at bay. And Curt didn't mind.   
  
They weren't kids anymore.  
  
Curt didn't understand how Arthur could be so laid back. But he was. And that made Curt feel good.   
  
It made him feel like a real person. He liked that.  
  
They lay entwined for a few minutes, gently touching and holding and exploring. Until Arthur grin-  
ned again, and grabbed Curt's chin lightly.  
  
"Good Morning."  
  
* * *  
  
Okay, here's the deal. That was *way* short. I know. However, this chapter would be hella long if   
I did it how I originally planned it. So I have bits of the next chapters written, and I'll   
update this chapter again soon. PS: Work bites. (I don't wanna grow up, I'm a Toys R Us kid!) 


End file.
